


Massage

by LadyCookieCupcake



Series: black butler stories [2]
Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: A request, F/M, Flirty Undertaker, M/M, Massages are heaven after a stressful day, Meyrin and Bard are only mentioned, Minor Swearing, Reader has a crush even they don't know about, Reader works with Undertaker, gender neutral reader, inappropriate noises, inappropriate thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 10:58:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16554491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyCookieCupcake/pseuds/LadyCookieCupcake
Summary: Undertaker is stressed. Reader gives him a massage.It should have beenthatsimple.





	Massage

**Author's Note:**

> this was a request on deviantart

 The stress was as clear as day, to you at least.

  Although there were no frowns twisting his face, and no more sighs than usual, you could tell by the way he smiled a little wider, the way his fingers tapped every beat a second longer, the way he stood tenser than before.

 You could tell but only because you knew him well, not because be told you.  
  
  As always, the Undertaker refused to tell you and just pretended things were fine because he 'didn't want to worry you'. You wanted to tell him that he was being stupid, that you could see it and him not saying anything worried you more but you couldn't. Trying to get the Undertaker to talk when he doesn't want to was like trying to get an answer out of a brick wall.  
  
  So, instead of waiting for him to collapse from stress, you decided you'd take matters into your own hands and make him tell you why he was stressed (while also hoping he'd relax).

  After sneakily buying an ointment that supposedly helped relax tense muscles, you decided to practice on a couple of people, those people being Meyrin and Bard, the only two of the Phantomhive's 'excellent' servants that were willing to let you massage them. It wasn't that hard to get them to agree; you'll help them do their duties they're shit at and they let you message them.  
  
  You thought it went fine, and it did, alright? It went so fine you were quite proud of yourself, you who had no lessons beforehand (just ignore the light shriek Meyrin gave, and ignore the pained grunt Bard gave, and _hey_ , you're a pro).

So, determined and confident, you made sure you had everything before waiting for the right moment, and after a while (in which it felt like an eternity had passed), the Undertaker finally sat as the moon lit the dark sky. Not realising you were there, he sighed quietly, his stress more evident than it's ever been, but you focused on your task still, it was to get rid of this stress after all.  
  
  You shifted the curtain quietly, finally removing yourself from the back room, where you had waited (in)patiently for the Undertaker to finish up. The shuffle of the curtain alerted the Reaper of your presence, and instantly he changed, his body still tense but his face happy if only a little tired.

  You sighed and grabbed the ointment as you walked over, placing it beside you on the table as you sat down onto a chair next to him.  
  
  "Turn around and take your shirt and coat off." You demanded. You weren't going to dilly-dally and try small-talk with him, because not only would it waste time but the Undertaker would know instantly something was wrong.

  You never tried small-talk (at least, not with him), so why would you start now?

  Though, of course, you realised you were maybe a little  _too_ straightforward, and just hoped he'd listen. Fortunately (or maybe unfortunately, you weren't sure), he was too tired to protest, and instead lightly huffed and turned in his seat, sliding his coat off with a seductive grace. He did the same with the shirt, and you weren't sure if he knew what he was doing (he probably was, the bastard) but you didn't mind, trust.  
  
  Once the coat and the shirt was off, you took a moment to take in his pale-white skin, the faint scars clear to you. You gently traced them, pausing when you felt him tense further under your cold touch, but a simple, apologetic look sent his way had him rolling his eyes and relaxing to his usual intense state.

  "Why, my dear, did I need to take my clothing off?" He finally asked, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes. He asks that now,  _after_ taking his clothes off. Typical.  
  
  You ignored his question, deciding to show him by carefully pouring some of the ointment into your hands, rubbing them together to coat your hands better, and then gently rub his back. You gently (admittedly much gentler than you did with the two Phantomhive servants) rubbed at his tense muscles, and quickly you could feel the way the Undertaker tensed but relaxed.

  With each gentle rub and nudge, you could feel the muscles slowly relaxing, his mouth openng in a silent gasp (unbeknownst to yourself) as his eyes slipped closed.  
  
  It was fine, much better than before, and you actually began feeling quite confident in your ability to massage the stress out of him...

 And then he moaned.

  Of course, it wasn't just _any_ moan, oh no. It was a loud moan, like one you'd expect from someone who was having sex. This moan was throaty, deep and pleasureful, it was loud and sudden, it was nothing like you expected, causing you to pause in your rubbing.  
  
  There was silence, an awkward silence (at least to you), before you quietly gulped and carried on in the silence. You rubbed his muscles, though you tried to be careful not to elicit that moan again, and although there were noises coming out of his mouth, they were still quiet enough for you to ignore.  
  
  As soon as you had finished, and his muscles less tense, you stepped back, rubbing your greasy hands on the apron you were forced to wear under the roof of the Undertaker. Turning, you screwed the lid back onto the bottle, and when you turned back again, you were mindful not to stare into his eyes. You weren't sure what he was going to say or do about that moan - after all, it's not something  _you_ would be happy and  _not_ embarrassed about.  
  
  "So, um-," You paused for a moment to cough, getting rid of the slight squeak your voice held, "- I hope that's helped a little. I've noticed you've been stressed- and don't even think about disagreeing. I've noticed, I'm not blind!" You snapped as he opened his mouth, possibly to protest, your mind quickly off the subject of his moan.

 He huffed and you rolled your eyes.

  "Adrian, please, next time you feel ill or stressed, tell me so I can help. I'm not just here to help with the shop, remember? I'm here to make sure you don't kill yourself!"

  He smirked over in your direction, and said "I can't die, I'm a Grim Reaper, remember?"  
  
  You glared at him, hands clenching around the bottle as you resisted the urge to throw it at him.

  "You know what I mean, idiot."

  The Undertaker continued to smirk as he stood, and despite his fringe covering his eyes, you knew he had winked over at you. He was just that type of idiot. You huffed as he wrapped his arms around your waist, crushing you into his chest and you stayed there, if only to stop him from seeing your crimson face.

  "Don't worry, love. If it's that pleasurable any other time, I'm definitely telling you. Maybe we can do more than just massage each other too." He whispered into your ear, and yep, you weren't staying there any longer.  
  
  Huffing, you pushed against him but he tightened his grip, causing both of you to go into a struggle. Neither of you minded, however, because shortly after that struggle, panting and giggly, you both went to the bedroom to do  _more than massage each other._

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed the story! :D  
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated. :D
> 
> Here's my [Tumblr](https://ladycookiecupcake.tumblr.com)


End file.
